Malbec, and then some.

As we crested the majestic Andes the final time and began our descent into the famed Mendoza wine region, I exhaled and let my muscles slacken. We had survived the harrowing journey from Chile to Argentina, overland, via a small and rickety passenger bus. No A/C. Hot winds ripped the air as a reminder of our vulnerability to the elements. The topography had seemingly leveled out and all the physiological signals of my body convinced me that on this day, the mountains would not claim us. As the palpable energy of the vehicle sunk into peace, my eyes gripped the landscape. I was looking for grapes. 

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